


tumbled like it was stone

by hopeyoustay



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth Tries Though, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Needs a Hug, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Male My Unit | Byleth, Minor Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Not A Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, So Does Dimitri, Sothis is Byleth's Emotional Support Goddess, Time Loop, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-09-24 12:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeyoustay/pseuds/hopeyoustay
Summary: The blade of Aymr came down on Dimitri's neck, the axe making quick work of the King's flesh and bone. Byleth had believed, up until that moment, that he could save him. Save both Dimitri and Edelgard; that had always been his goal, even as grief from killing his students of another life slowly turned his love for the Emperor to hate.Sothis stirred to life in his head, a ghost resurrected.Again?She asked, as tired as Byleth himself.Again.He responded, fire burning his chest hollow as Edelgard's hands fell gently on his shoulders.He wouldn't fall for honeyed promises of a better world again, not at the cost of peace and certainly not at the cost of losing Dimitri.





	1. my feet don't dance like they did with you

Edelgard swung Aymr down in a clean arc, the sharp blade of the axe making quick work of Dimitri's flesh and bone. His head was removed in an instant, first there and then not, two blue eyes wide and open and accusing. They had been pleading almost, staring past everyone and looking straight into Byleth's soul. He felt bile at the back of his throat, only vaguely hearing the words Hubert and Edelgard spoke at him, of victory and Rhea's retreat. A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked down to see Edelgard herself staring up at him, worry barely concealed in her eyes.

"Were you hurt in the battle? You're acting strange." Her voice sounded muffled, words bouncing around in his head but not really sinking in.

"I'm fine." He spoke shortly, not tearing his gaze from the head left abandoned in the mud. The blood was pooling and congealing, and Byleth remembered a past life when he'd carefully bandage Dimitri's wounds after battle.

The Prince had refused to go to the healers, believing he deserved the pain, that is was his price to pay to the dead. He had never turned Byleth away, though, when his old professor had forced him to sit on a pew in the cathedral, carefully cleaning and healing the wounds with a gentle hand many didn't know he possessed. Eventually, the Prince turned King continued to go to Byleth, not out of any twisted belief that he deserved suffering, but simply because he enjoyed the Professor's touch.

Byleth had really fucked that all to hell.

He zoned back in to see Edelgard smile, "We'll end this together, you and I."

Pain ricocheted through him, seizing every muscle, tendon, and bone. The thought of continuing this path, walking down it with Edelgard, was akin to torture. He remembers teaching Bernedetta archery, but her face was superimposed with Ashe's, who he had seen fall to a blast of black magic from Hubert on the battlefield weeks ago. He could see Ferdinand in the distance, proud atop his horse, but could think only of Sylvain, who had died taking an archer's blow for Felix. Images of his past life and the current one were irreconcilable in his mind. He had grown to care for the Black Eagles, how could he not? They were just as lovable as his Blue Lions, just as loving. They adored their professor, with the exception of Hubert who only managed potentially affectionate respect. 

And Edelgard, he knew she loved him. He couldn't miss it. The soft smile that seemed reserved for him under the cold Emperor facade, the way her touch would linger, the way she followed him unwaveringly into battle. Maybe he could've loved her back the way she wanted had he not lived a lifetime before this, had he not clumsily shared a dance with Dimitri in the Goddess Tower, had he not once hoarded chamomile tea just because it was the Prince's favorite. He had begged Sothis for a re-do to save her and all their fallen friends, to save Fódlan, from senseless war. He'd only managed one of those things, but he'd thought it would be enough. He thought he could save everyone, save _them_, save his Blue Lions even still. He should've known better, should have listened to Sothis when she tried to tell him, tried to warn him.

He knew he had no heartbeat but that didn't stop the vicious ache in his chest. He stumbled slightly, barely catching himself before he fell to his knees. 

Just as Dimitri had fallen.

"Professor, Byleth-!" He heard Edelgard's startled voice, "Hubert, get-!"

"Linhardt!" The man's harsh voice rang out, an undercurrent of worry, "Dorothea, now!"

A calloused and delicate hand brushed his cheek, and he saw Edelgard kneeling in the mud.

"Can you concentrate?" She asked, voice tight with concern, "Byleth, look at me."

He couldn't do either thing she asked of him. He thought of the dances he'd shared with her, thought about her effortless grace and her playful reprimands when he'd miss a step. He wanted the dances with Dimitri back, the blushing and the laughter and the casual but unspoken love. He'd made the mistake of not telling Dimitri he loved him, and that would always hurt. Would always be a raw, open wound. Because while he could love Edelgard, could move on and be her consort and help her rule, could move on and live a life with her, he didn't want to.

He had learned how to be human with Dimitri. With all the Blue Lions, really. He wouldn't lie and say the first time he experienced frustration wasn't while he dealt with Felix. He remembers Dimitri asking him to smile again because the Prince thought it suited him better than the blank expression he always wore. Remembers Mercedes and Annette making him sweets after his father's death, remembers how it was a small flicker of hope in all the despair. He remembers chiding Sylvain, discussing the points of literature with Ashe, Ingrid trying and failing to teach him to fly, tending the flowers with Dedue.

Goddess, he remembers Flayn trying to show him a basic healing spell. He also remembers the look on her face when he sided with Edelgard, betraying her and Seteth in the process.

Now he knows how Dimitri felt, to be haunted by ghosts of the dead and the past.

He couldn't stop the tears, even as he heard Dorothea and Linhardt trying to heal a wound he didn't have. Something stirred in his mind, Sothis rising like a ghost resurrected.

_Again? _She asked, as tired as Byleth himself.

_Again. _He responded, fire burning his chest hollow as Edelgard's hands fell gently on his shoulders.

_This is your last chance_, she spoke within his head_, your body cannot handle much more._

She could feel his acceptance and he felt no need to respond. He only needed one more chance. He closed his eyes, ignoring Edelgard's desperate pleas, and opened them to the unfamiliar sight of a thatched roof. He didn't cry this time when Jeralt woke him up, only readied himself once more for the war.

He wouldn't fall for honeyed promises of a better world again, wouldn't fall for sympathy and what-ifs. Not at the cost of peace and certainly not at the cost of losing Dimitri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work Title: Dynasty, MIIA  
Chapter Title: Ghost of You, 5 Second of Summer
> 
> Okay, obviously a Dimileth story but you can't deny Edelgard had an obvious crush lmao. This is my first ever writing for FE3H, so let me know what you guys think! The Time Loop aspect really intrigues me, especially a voluntary one, so here Byleth goes (again)! Don't worry, it won't just be a re-telling of the typical Blue Lions route, mostly because Byleth is Fed UpTM and also depressed and guilty lmao. Killing your faves will do that to you.


	2. could we come close to having it all?

When he opened his eyes again, he almost wished he had stayed dead. Dimitri remembers Edelgard swinging the axe down, and his world going dark. He hadn't been looking at her, though, rather past her. Byleth had stood, looking as distraught as Dimitri figured the stoic man could express. Had he remembered their life before everything went to shit, before time had torn itself apart and unwound and made his personal hell? Had he remembered the Goddess Tower, their wish to the Goddess to always be together-?

Maybe Edelgard was right, he thought grimly as she and Claude chatted and snipped at each other. Maybe the Goddess was a fraud.

What would it be this time? Would he be forced to watch Edelgard conquer again, the professor at her side as they crushed any hope he had at retribution for the dead? Or perhaps Byleth would choose Claude this time, and together they'd conquer Fódlan and leave him to his madness and death? A better option than the first, for sure, but it still brought a bitter taste to his tongue. He always remembered his first life with fondness, even if it was tainted now. A wave of dark anger flashed through him, and gone was his pitiable hope from this past go around. Maybe he could kill the professor before he even got the chance to choose Edelgard, before they could kill not only everything left that he loved but also himself?

The plundering arrival of the bandits broke him from his thoughts, and soon they stood before Jeralt, and not long after came Byleth himself.

Seeing him that way, the dark blue hair and eyes, the emotionless mask of a mercenary, brought back feelings that were clearly better buried. Still, any thoughts of Byleth's death fled from his mind; for all his posturing a lifetime ago, he would have never killed Byleth. Never have struck him down, or _let _him be struck down. Even now, even knowing what he does, he couldn't bear the thought. So Byleth saved them again, and once more the rush to capture the attention of the sparkly new toy of a mercenary begins among the pampered noble students. This time though he simply makes a half-hearted offer before Claude and after Edelgard, fully expecting the professor's favor to be tossed to the Adrestian Empire once again.

"Faerghus does seem interesting."

The words, while different from the original ones the professor had spoken all that time ago, caused a wave of sound to roar in his head. He couldn't get his hopes up, though, even as Claude and Edelgard chatted to the man as they walk their way back to the monastery. He did so in relative silence, giving responses when appropriate and nods where they were needed. He watched the blue hair disappear into the distance as they returned to their dorms, a fearful affection stirring in his chest. Was this a punishment, he wondered briefly, for all the lives he took? Had he died and the goddess sentenced him to watch his life crumble again and again after he gets his hopes up? It would be fitting; Felix was right, after all. He was nothing more than a beast. Once, perhaps, he believed he could be more. Believed he could be...something, even if he didn't know what. Then life had restarted, and his only constant anchor had been cut away and he'd been left to drift at sea, lost without a light in the darkness.

This time the professor made no rounds around the monastery; he was confused. Previously, the man had gone to each house leader to inquire about the members, or to at least have them introduce themselves. However, when he saw Byleth next, the man was walking through the doors of the Blue Lions common room like a blast of cold air.

"Is that the mercenary that saved you, your highness?" Annette whispered next to him, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Yes, it is." He kept his eyes locked on Byleth and ignored the image of her dead body on the field at Gronder, hiding the flinch that came with it.

Every time he looked one of his friends in the eye, it was as though a cold hand reached straight into his chest, grabbed him by the heart, and chilled him to the bone. He avoided it as much as possible to at least attempt to keep up a pretense of normal, because freezing in the middle of a conversation with Sylvain or Ingrid was unusual, and nearly crying when he looked at Felix or Dedue was downright insanity.

He watched Byleth scan them all for a moment before his lips quirked up just slightly, almost unnoticeable to someone not practiced with the professor's expressions, and the man held out a scroll to Dimitri. Saying he felt shocked came up a little short; in truth, he felt more like his world had been turned on its head. He refused to hope, he refused to hope, he-

Just for a moment, every voice was silent in his head and replaced by his own pounding heartbeat as he unrolled the scroll. Rhea's signature along with Seteth's, proclaiming Byleth the homeroom professor for the Blue Lions house. Along with these responsibilities, the letter read, Byleth was in charge of their personal training and keeping house morale consistently up. He knew this already, but he read it before pretending to blink in shock, ignoring the aching at the back of his eyes and deep in his chest.

"I'll be your new professor," Byleth spoke, no sentiment in his voice to give Dimitri a clue to his feelings, "You don't need to call me that, of course. Just Byleth is fine."

They all objected, just like before, except for Felix and Sylvain. Felix because he was only interested in a sparring partner who might be 'halfway decent,' in the swordsman's own words, and Sylvain merely because the redhead had never been one for any pomp or the usual temperament usually expected of a nobleman. For a brief moment, he remembers Sylvain rushing his horse in front of Felix, desperate to take the critical blow. Remembers Ingrid screaming and Felix, stone-cold Felix, crying-

"Tell us about being a mercenary, professor!" Annette crows with a large smile.

"I'd be interested in that." Felix raised an eyebrow, "Who's the strongest person you've defeated-?"

"Felix, come on-" Ingrid started, only to be interrupted by Sylvain.

"More like who's the prettiest girl you've bedded-?"

"Enough of that, too!" Ingrid snapped, sighing as she pinched the bridge of her nose, "Professor, I'm so sorry for these two-!"

"How about the best advice you can give us." Mercedes piped up with a soft smile, eyes serene and kind.

Her eyes, open and unseeing, tome fallen out of her hand. The pages were scattered, splattered with blood like paint across a canvas. It sprinkled across her upper chest and the entirety of her face as well, the spear running clean through her chest-

"Like, um, real world!" Ashe added, "Nothing academic! We'll get enough of that later."

"Real world advice, huh?" Byleth tilted his head slightly, eyes clearly distant, "Well...as a mercenary, I've learned that no matter what you fight for, gold or otherwise, it always has consequences. So, I'd say choose what you fight for decisively, and be prepared to bear those consequences when they come. They always do, you'll find."

There was a heaviness in his voice that gave them all pause, even Felix, and the room was silent as they absorbed the words. Unexpected words, certainly not spoke _before_, but even still they made a chill go up his spine. Consequences, he thought mirthlessly. Yes, he'd had plenty of those in his life. From Rodrigue's death to his own decapitation, he'd reaped the fruits of his actions as unpleasant as they were. 

"Well, then." Ashe gave a nervous little chuckle, "Good thing we're a team! We can, uh, bear the consequences together!"

Sylvain reached around to clap him on the shoulder, "That's the spirit!"

Felix grunted, rolling his eyes. In response, Sylvain retracted his hand from Ashe and proceeded to throw an arm across Felix's shoulder. The swordsman gave a disgruntled noise and things slowly dissolved into familiar chaos. His eyes eventually circled back from his undead friends to the professor, who watched them fondly. He wondered where that came from, where-

Byleth's eyes found his own, and Dimitri abruptly turned around and slipped away when no one was watching but the professor. Surely the other man didn't remember as well. Surely he-

Dimitri closed the door to his room firmly and hid and hid any tears that escaped into his pillow. It'd been...so long since he'd cried. It was supposed to make you feel better, he vaguely recalls Mercedes telling him, but he only felt empty.

* * *

Byleth watched Dimitri go, confusion seeping into his bones rapidly. The prince was different, he thought, overlapping the old Dimitri he knew and this strange, walled off young one that had stood before him. Though, perhaps he was looking for some sort of guilt-inducing reaction after seeing the man he loved get beheaded. 

_Is it possible? _He asked within his own mind.

_I am unsure. Forgive me, I've never rewound time by years twice before._ The sarcastic response was, frankly, expected from Sothis. 

Then, she spoke gently.

_Even so, if he does remember, you would've told him anyways._

He'd like to claim she was wrong, but it would've been a lie. He didn't know when he would tell Dimitri, if he could even get the words out without them choking him, but he couldn't keep his past actions a secret. Not when, in a previous timeline, Dimitri and every single one of his friends had died. Not by Byleth's hand, perhaps, but certainly because of him. The guilt was already eating him alive just looking at his past students, he knew he couldn't hide it from the one who made him regret his choices the most. If he told no one else, he'd tell Dimitri. The prince deserved to know, should they attempt to be happy far in the future after the war and suffering that would come to pass, that he wasn't the beast. 

Byleth was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: Hold Me While You Wait, Lewis Capaldi
> 
> LOOK WHO ELSE REMEMBERS!
> 
> Also, wowie, Byleth and Dimitri both hate themselves and Dimitri low key hates and loves Byleth. Shocker.


	3. don't make it worse just cut me down

Morning light filtered through the curtains of Byleth's room far too early. He could hear the roosters outside, hear the bustle of the monastery waking up, and feel the beginnings of a pounding headache behind his eyes. He hadn't gotten any sleep of course; papers were scattered about, ideas and schemes alike trying to figure out how he could possibly do the hundreds of things necessary before Edelgard launched her war campaign. First and foremost, he had to make sure Dimitri stayed sane and, most importantly, safe. He didn't have a single clue as to what had changed within the young man, and he went over his behavior from yesterday for what felt like the hundredth time in his mind. Had his time travel finally broken something? Had he somehow made Dimitri's childhood more horrifying than it already was? Or did the prince somehow retain his memories from their previous go at everything?

Did he resent Byleth, if so? Did he hate him? In all honesty, the professor couldn't blame him if that was the case. 

"You're overthinking this." Sothis sighed from beside him, tossing green locks over her shoulder, "You're like a child with their first crush."

"Says the girl who stands four and a half feet tall." Byleth sent a pointed look to where she hovered off the ground just to be eye level with him, shouldering his bag on slumped shoulders, "I didn't ask for you to follow me around, you know? You don't have to."

She huffed, "And _I_ didn't ask to break the laws of time and nature not once, but _twice_ to betray your boyfriend and then save his life." She must've felt the pit opening up in his stomach and amended her words with a smile, "But, we're here. Nothing to do about it now! Grab the violets, would you? Your students love those."

Biting his cheek, he carefully placed the flowers in the pocket of his coat, "I know that."

"I know you know that. I also know that you're running on exactly zero hours of sleep and would forget them. Do you _want _them to wilt? You were out so late picking them, I figured-"

"I wanted to give them to Ashe and Annette." He muttered as he stepped out the door.

"Oh." Her shoulders sagged a little as she floated beside him, "Yes, I recall them. Sweet children, they were."

"Are." Byleth grumbled sharply and he passed the common rooms and made for the dining hall.

"Of course, of course. No need to be so grouchy." Sothis smiled deviously, "Your first day as their professor, wouldn't want to make a bad impression, hmm?"

"You're a gremlin." He snarked quietly as he pulled the door open, a rush of warm air hitting his face.

"Professor! Professor!" Annette stood and waves him over to the table where the Blue Lions sat, "Here, sit with us!"

"Faculty usually sit with each other." Ingrid sipped a cup of coffee filled with so much creamer it looked like milk, "I'm sure the professor would rather sit with them."

"Oh." She wilted slightly but gave him just as wide a smile, "That's okay too, of course!"

"Nonsense." Byleth shook his head, hoping his stoic mask held in the guilt and affection warring in his chest, "I'd be happy to sit with you all."

* * *

Dimitri watched the man that sat across from him carefully. Byleth looked tired; much more tired than he could ever remember the man looking. It made him want to protect him, ask him what was wrong, hold him...but also, he scorned those feelings. This was the man that turned their backs on them, who, after seeing them to victory, ended up in Edelgard's clutches at the beginning of everything. Honestly, Dimitri didn't know how to describe the feelings in his chest. He had never been good at introspection; between the ghosts in his head and the trauma of his entire life, he tried to avoid self-evaluation. It was a recipe for disaster and only drove him crazy, trying to figure his own psyche out. Obviously, his ignore and bury strategy wasn't foolproof; the beginning of the original war had proved that. Byleth had found him half-mad and more than a little feral. A beast, as Felix so often called him. 

He tried to keep an easy smile curving his lips as he ate with his friends, subtly trying to scan Byleth's face. The mercenary mask of a demon was in full effect; he would get nothing out of the man. Even his eyes were blank, either carefully so or because he truly remembered nothing. It was like poison in his veins, his emotions. They were slowly eroding his soul the longer he looked at a younger version of the man he'd loved. Loved, yes, that was the emotion he'd felt what seemed like centuries ago. Before he'd been beheaded, before his friends had met their grim ends, before he'd woken up in a younger body the first time feeling scared and confused. Before all that, he had loved a mercenary turned professor, Byleth being the only one to wrench him from his self-imposed punishment and isolation. He'd wanted to tell him, wanted to give him the ring he'd bought the week before their final battle, wanted to do a lot more than wake up the next morning in the past.

In all honesty, he still wanted to do those things.

The feeling was peculiar, loathing someone but at the same time loving them with every fiber of your being. It was like the five-year war, compressed down and packed into his very heart. 

"Professor, do you have a strategy for the mock battle tonight?" Sylvain spoke with a mouth full of eggs, "We've gotta win, you know-!"

Ingrid smacked him on the shoulder with her empty cup, making him yelp, "Table manners, Sylvain, by the _Goddess_."

Byleth's lips twitched upwards, and Dimitri's heart thumped faster in his chest, "I do, actually. We'll win."

"At least you're confident!" Mercedes smiled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners, "That's the first step to winning."

"The first step to winning is being stronger." Felix rolled his eyes, "We'll need a half-decent strategy to beat two houses at once."

"I think I can manage, Fraldarius." Byleth spoke, monotone, as he sipped on a breakfast blend of tea he'd poured.

"Oh, stone-cold, professor!" Sylvain cackled quietly, nudging Felix on the shoulder only to get his hand smacked away, "Ouch!"

"What do you think, your highness?" Ashe turned to him, that hero worship still fresh in his eyes and youth clear on his face, "Do you think we can win?"

"Of course." He tried to stretch his lips just a bit farther, make the smile that much more realistic, "I have the utmost faith in all of you."

From the looks he got from Dedue and Felix, he didn't do a very good job.

"Well, I'm happy someone has faith in me, inexperienced as I may be." Byleth gave a tight sort of smile and Dimitri's heart now began to flip and turn, "I have been a mercenary since I was little more than six years old, you know."

Annette blinked, "But...six? That's so young!"

Byleth only shrugged, "My father was the leader of a mercenary camp. Who was going to babysit me? No one, so I learned very early to fight to stay alive. Soon they just brought me with them."

He could see his housemates digested the information with no small amount of shock, and found himself a bit shocked as well. Before, Byleth hadn't been so open with information at the start and they rarely had the opportunity to sit and chat as a group like this. Not to mention after Jeralt died everyone had tried to tiptoe around anything pertaining to his father like it was a plague. Soon they were finished and the dishes were collected, his professor the first one to be up and out the door. Dimitri's eyes followed him until his figure disappeared down the stairs, that blue hair still collecting sunlight as he remembered from the youths of his past. He wondered if he'd always be waiting for the other shoe to drop regarding their professor. How did he know the man wouldn't turn on them, wouldn't side with Edelgard when the decision has to be made?

Sylvain caught him off guard, slinging an arm around his shoulder, "So, crush on our professor, huh?"

He could see Ingrid roll her eyes from where she stood talking to Dorothea and didn't _that _give him anxiety. He still remembered the brunette using Thoron to strike one of his oldest friends from her pegasus, Ingrid's body falling hard and fast, dead before she hit the ground. 

Distantly, he realized Sylvain was still talking, "-really my type, you know?"

"What?" Dimitri blinked, fully zoning back into the conversation.

"Still daydreaming?" The red-head laughed, "Ah, man, you got it bad!"

If only he realized how correct that statement was, the prince thought as he very nearly sputtered, "I'm not...in _love _with our professor."

Sylvain blinked innocently, "Love? Who said anything about love?"

He narrowed his eyes and turned, walking away with purpose out the opposite exit Byleth had gone through.

"Woah, wait! Dimitri, wait up!"

* * *

Byleth practically jogged to his father's quarters. Jeralt was there, shifting through the papers that proclaimed his duties and missions of the month with a frown. He looked up when Byleth nearly skidded in the open door and quietly shut it, though not before glancing up and down the hallway to ensure Seteth and Rhea were not lurking around. Even Cyril, Goddess knows the kid heard Rhea's name and came running.

"Okay, what'd you do?" Jeralt leaned back in his chair.

"Huh?" The professor replied, taken aback.

"You break something?" The mercenary questioned, "We're low on funds right now, kid. Just blame it on one of those noble brats and call it a day."

He felt his mouth quirk up in a half-smile. If there was one thing that remained constant in any timeline, it was his dad's ability to bullshit.

Sitting in the chair across from his desk, Byleth shook his head, "Afraid it's...a bit more serious than that."

Jeralt returned the front of his chair to the ground and put his elbows on the desk, ignoring the forgotten paperwork strewn about, "What is it?"

"I...don't think we should trust Rhea. Or...Seteth, or any of them." Byleth fidgeted under his father's concerned stare, "I have a...bad feeling."

A lame explanation, but the most honest one he's given thus far. Though he would always regret going back to try and save Edelgard, he _had _seen what Rhea truly was. He knew what she did to him, now, and what she intended for him to become. He wasn't Byleth to her; just a vessel to be used to give life to her mother once again.

"Something happened." Jeralt narrowed his eyes, "You're nervous. You're never nervous."

"I just think you're right." Byleth set his jaw stubbornly.

"And now you're agreeing with me." His father sighed, "Shit, kid, tell me the truth. Did any of them try something? Take DNA samples? Did Rhea ask for blood?"

No, but Hanneman did. He decided it would be best if he kept that tidbit to himself; the last thing he needed was his father being executed or jailed for murdering his fellow professor.

"Nothing happened." He shook his head slightly, "It's _nothing_. I just...wanted you to know we're on the same page. About not trusting them."

Sothis cut him a hard side-eye from where she stood beside him, "Very convincing."

He wanted to hiss back at her like an angry cat but refrained for the sake of his father's sanity.

"Well...when you feel like telling me the truth, you know where I am, brat." 

Had his dad always been able to call his bluff so easily, or was Byleth just slipping?

"You're just slipping." Sothis replied.

"Right." Byleth ignored her tensely, "Just...maybe don't trust all their missions? And be careful?"

"What do you mean?" Jeralt raised an eyebrow, "Don't get me wrong, I don't trust Rhea as far as I can throw her, but I don't think she's out to get me killed."

Byleth's flinch must've said it all, because his father's face grew grim, "Kid, I'm worried now. Be honest with me, it won't leave this room."

Sothis glanced up, green eyes meeting blue for a split second, and she spoke softly as someone would to a wounded animal, "You tried to protect him yourself last time and he still ended up dead. Even if it is fate, surely divine beings such as ourselves can ignore that?"

He didn't correct her on the fact that she was divine, not him, and just looked his dad in the eye, "You won't believe me."

If there was some way to save his father, some way to let him live past that cursed day when Kronya shoved a dagger in his back, he'd do whatever it took for it to happen. He knew it made him a bad person, the most wretched and selfish person alive, but if his dad survived then everything would almost have been worth it. His own trauma, the memories that haunted him every second, all the pain and suffering. The only thing that he would never be worth it, would never be traded in or gambled on again, was the lives of his students. His Blue Lions, who he'd seen cut down; whose deaths he had felt just as poignantly as his own father's.

"Try me, brat."

Byleth took a deep breath, "Just remember I warned you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: Hurt Me Now, Quinn Lewis
> 
> Sothis is #TeamByleth, guys, I mean she grew up with him even if he doesn't know it. She's his little sister/gremlin. Jeralt is also #TeamByleth, but that's his son, so. Jeralt is also #TeamLetMyKidBeFuckingHappy after this chapter.
> 
> Dimitri is just #TeamDon'tLetMyFriendsDiePlease.
> 
> Can you guess where Dima's going? He's gonna try and play Q&A next chapter, but he'll just make himself sad and uncomfortable. More pining ensues.


End file.
